January 8th, 2017

This travelogue is gonna take a while.  I hope you enjoy some of it but I need to do it for a few reasons.  First, as a document for the kids to one day have for this special time in their lives.  I also use it to give people that are going to places where we've been and ask about what to do.  I get pissed when I ask people that have been a place that I am going to and they got nothing.  No restaurants or hotels and at best, the vaguest of impressions.  Inevitably, when we meet up after and I tell them about a nuance to the society that would have been good to know beforehand, they go, 'oh I know, we struggled with that too...'  Thanks a ton.  Another benefit is that in recapping a trip, and life in general via a journal or diary is personally rewarding.  Writing stuff down is proven to help lock in memories of things and emotions.  For instance, at the end of this trip, hesitantly in fear of jinxing it, I said at dinner that this is the 5th Christmas trip we have done together and that in all of that time, in the Winter of places that can experience bitter weather, we have had unbelievably and uncommonly fantastic weather.  Rarely a cloudy day and barely a hint of precipitation.  AM agrees and said she could only think of one rainy day we had.  I ask if anyone remembers it and they didn't, but I could not only remember where it was but exactly what we did and how we felt about that day.  Finally, I get to talk to my friends and family to let them know what we're doing and experiencing and feeling.  Even with instant messaging and Skype, physical distance prevents people from feeling what their closest friends are feeling and sharing the events, both significant and mundane, of their lives that we have loved to share for years.  I do miss you people.  A lot.  Wish that I could hear more from you about real stuff and just wanted you to know

Anyhoo...thanks for sitting through this stuff.  It feels like the 60's when people would sit you down to look at their slide shows.

We were done with Naples and it was time to get the rental car we'd be in for the rest of the trip.  A VW Caravalle van.

Spacious for 6.  Think it is time to talk about the road for a couple of minutes.  This is a new car with plenty of USB inputs, but we could not figure out how to link my Bluetoothless iPod to the sound system.  That was trouble...a lot of the music on there is not for anyone other than myself and a few like minded friends, but I have a ton of great songs that anyone can enjoy and had a bunch of mellow classic playlists ready for the many hours on the road ahead.  I know that no one else had the library I did and that their stuff was as awful to me as my worst 15 minute guitar wailing Yo La Tengo skronk would be to them.  Fortunately, on my cell phone were dozens of KEXP live podcasts.  KEXP is a great station and has something for everybody.  They do a ton of in studio performances that sound as good as if they were done in recording studios and from bands from all genres.  I have things on my phone from all genres and during this trip, I hit play at A and we got through the letter T.  A lot of them were my kind of jangly or punky bands, but there was a bunch of jazz and world stuff in there too.  They are on air performances so between songs, the DJ's would talk to the artists.  We heard music from (among others) Ukraine, Mali, Israel, Japan, Iceland, Brazil, Argentina, Colombia, Mexico and Germany.  Wasn't allowed to crank it, but good (I thought) driving music.

Also in the van with us was Tiffany Amber Theissen.  That is the name we gave to the GPS machine we rented that was mostly invaluable and sometimes mind boggling.  She would take us on the most direct route, which sometimes meant a glorified donkey path or a narrow alley where the review mirrors would brush along the parked cars.  Not a huge deal to me as that is my morning commute, but a bit disconcerting to those used to the ample byways of the States.  Another thing that "Tiff" wasn't good at was seeing real time traffic.  At certain times, Betty would turn on her Google maps and it would give us a slightly different route and there would be a group discussion about directions.  There is nothing a driver likes more than 4 people (and machines) telling him 4 different ways to go.  The Boy was my designated co-pilot and he has been well trained (by me) as to how to be dependable and calm at shotgun.  We made a boo-boo here and there but overall, a superior effort navigationally.

I drive fast.  Some (including many in law enforcement) would call it speeding, but don't feel that  I drive recklessly.  Am totally confident behind the wheel and feel that way due to vast experience (conceived in a car for crying out loud) and my record on collisions is spotless.  I also understand that being a passenger is unpleasant for most.  I almost can't do it...dread having to take a taxi and loathe other people driving me.  And  am acutely aware of motion sickness cause I get it bad.  We were on a lot of winding mountain roads and got some grmbles from the back seat about taking turns too fast.  I want you all to know that I tried my best to smooth them out but it was gonna happen and we did have to get to our destination eventually.  All in all, going in I felt like a great driver, but by the end of the trip, I felt I was more than that.  Traveling in Italy, religion is a constant companion.  Churches are a major destination everywhere and the culture has been directed by Christianity for 2000 years.   By the end of this trip, I was feeling a bit divine cause with regularrlity, as we were flying down the autostrade passing oil rigs or narrolwly going past cars coming the opposite way on hairpin mountain turns, I kept hearing "Jesus" from the back seats.  I hear you my children.

A common stereotype of the Italians are that they are rude drivers and I find them to be quite the opposite.  They do drive fast, which I respect, but they also adhere to proper road etiquette.  Stay out of the fast lane unless passing is massive for them and they all do it with a religious fervor.  Another example is at a roundabout...when you come to one, you give way tot he car in the circle.  In Taiwan, they barrel into them and pretend to look straight ahead so they can claim they didn't see you.  That's bullshit Taiwan drivers, I know what you are doing and wish you'd knock that crap off.  You'd be way cooler. 

Finally, the van performed well.  It had some kick when you put down the pedal which is a necessity in a pass-happy culture.  The only problem we had was that it was a diesel.  Diesel isn't a problem in itself, it's just that they burn dirty.  To combat it, they are making them with catalytic converters that need a special lubricant.  We learned that the kind for our ride was called AdBlue.  When we got in the car, it said in a dashboard warning light in  Italian something about AdBlue and 800 kilometers.  At each 50 kilometer interval, it'd beep.  At one refueling stop, we asked a cop about it and they looked at it and pointed to a diesal additive and said...well not said but gave us the Italian hand gesture of 'don't worry about it'.  When it warning for 50 kilometers left came on, I said aloud, "I wonder what it'll do when it gets to zero?"  It got to zero on the road from Siracusa to Palermo and we kept on trucking.  It was time for a pee break so wew pull into the gas station for a wiz and espresso.

Quick tangent...the quick espressos are fantastic and everywhere.  60 to 80 cents, you order one up, it's at your hand in 20 seconds, down the gullet in 20 more and you're on your way.  Simply the way to organize a society.

We pull into this station and it has the coffee bar as they all do, but it's not the best we've seen.  We went into one of them previously and not only was immaculately clean and there was a bakery on site with the widest array of delightful pasteries and panninis you could imagine.  Better appointed than a Whole Foods and smelled elicious.  The one we pulled into after the AdBlue went to zero was not this kind, but it did the trick for a bathroom stop.  Back in the car, we then learned what happens when AdBlue goes to zero...the car won't start.  Shit...we are in rural Sicily, which means not a ton of tourists and not a lot of reason for the local gas jockeys to learn English to accommodate them.  A prolonged game of charades then ensued and we learned a couple things.  The cop who earlier said it ain't no big thing was dead wrong,  and the additive needed for this ride, which I assumed at the time would be a common thing in an EU country that has a ton of diesel machines like ours, is also not carried everywhere.  After pulling out the car manual (who woulda thought of that 600 kilometers ago?) and more gesturing and broken conversations between our contingent and the Italians and they finally communicate to us that they are gonna drive some over from another station a few kilometers away. 

Check out that Mazzeratti hearse.

Dude arrives about 30 minutes later with a couple gallons and here is something else we learned...Italian gas stations don't have funnels.  Getting it into the tank was not going to be easy.

 Dude starts pouring but for every drop that went into the car, 20 were hitting the pavement.  No funnel.  Dude then grabs a water bottle and starts cutting it with a knife to make a makeshift tube.  Works a little better but not much and  we fear it is not going to get enough into our ride to start it.  This is where Betty shines...she grabs the bottle and knife, makes it better and then gets into it elbow deep with the dudes

Success.  It works way better, they get it down the hatch and the van starts up.  That moment where Betty and the Italians are working together to make something better was a highlight of the trip for me.  I felt like I was on the Marco Polo expedition and they put noodles and tomatoes together for the first time.  It was an epic moment of human history just like that.

So that is car talk...we all climb in and our destination is two nights along the Amalfi Coast.  This area is a long spit of land an hour or so south of Naples with a long coastline that faces south.  Epic coastline drive through small towns with a long history and has been the summer destination of the beautiful people for ages.  We knew going in that winter is not the season as most of the hotels and many of the shops/restaurants close for the season.  As it is situated at the end of the peninsula and remote from the rest of the towns, we decided to hit Sorrento the first day and go to our hotel.  Sorrento was charming and sleepy.  We tooled around, had a nice lunch, which ended up being the most expensive meal of our whole trip and thought it would be a fine place to visit again.  We went to our hotel that was located in Agerola on the hill above the coast and was described as a working farm.  This was my biggest planning mistake as it was too remote (1/2 hour drive over super windy road above the coast) and the staff were not well suited to non-Italian speaking guests.  And as a working farm, there were some smells that disturbed some of our more sensitive crew.  I read they had excellent food, but the total inability to communicate with them inhibited us from getting the most from the place.  And the WiFi sucked, which did not make the kids happy. 

Even after a massive lunch, some of us were a bit hungry and just wanted to get out, so 4 of our 6 got in the car and just drove around looking for a something to eat and after a few minutes, we saw the light on at Da Nicola's.

I looked it up afterwards and it is a family run joint with the 3 generations doing the work.  The reviews all said the food was solid, which it was, but that the real attraction was the sister that was waiting the tables.  Gilda was effervescent and made the night a bunch of fun for us.

We ordered a few things to share and AM ordered a pizza insalata.  I will say that the further away we got from Naples, the better the pizza was, but this night, the insalata pizza was a lovely cheese one with a flaky crust, but topped with a huge pile of lettuce.  Not arugula or some fancy baby spinach...just raw iceberg.  I could simply not understand it and thought it was perhaps the dumbest thing I have ever been served.  Raw, uncooked lettuce on a pizza?  Why?  Put a vegetable on the pizza if you feel the need, but something with no nutritional value and little fiber content is simply ridiculous.  As I am wont to do, I railed on the pizza for the next 24 hours, but we were so delighted with Gilda that we all returned the next night.  AM must have been sick of my ranting on her pizza choice (which is understandable) so ordered it again I am sure to either spite me or keep my aggravation going (and probably both).  Gilda entertained us again in fine form the second night too.  For example, towards the end of the meal, she picked AM and asked if she wanted to play a little game.  She takes her to the other side of the restaurant to a table with an elderly couple that spoke no English.  Don't know what went on in that conversation, but they came back a few minutes later and Gilda set-up an arm wrestling contest between our contender and the old lady.  With the entire restaurant (staff and patrons)watching, the American took down the old Italian lady.  Then Gilda, who could pose for the picture of solid rural Italian mom sat across from AM and took her out.  Everyone had a good laugh and she gave AM  a little shot glass from the town and a jar of preserves made by the grandmother.  After the relatively disappointing food of Naples and the good but expensive chow in Sorrento the afternoon before, we started to hit our culinary stride.

On our second day on the Amalfi coast, we decided to hire a driver/guide to show us around the towns.  Francesco arrived on time and had a deluxe Mercedes van and we were off.  It was grey and drizzly at times, and the towns were super quiet for the off season, but you could totally get the vibe as to how amazing it must be in the peak season.  We started in Ravello, which is in a hill just above the coast and hosts a summer long concert series in simply spectacular setting. 

We popped into the city of Amalfi next for a stroll through the town and duomo

And finally, spent an hour or so in Positano...

Really stunning.  Wouldn't advise it for a winter destination, and not sure my blue collar sensibilities would thrive there for any extended period of time, but I sure would love to drive these roads unencumbered by car sick passengers.  Cranking the tunes with the summer breeze blowing through my curly locks...oh baby.  Such a contrast to seedy Naples just an hour away.  You have heard the old wives tale that if a woman is pregnant with a girl that it saps her beauty?  That is what happened to Naples with their Amalfi baby girl taking all of the looks.

Francesco was a decent guide.  I do the majority of booking the hotels and tours, but the ladies sourced Francesco and it was immediately obvious they chose him cause of his profile picture.  They didn't deny it either, calling him a hottie.  A bit shallow, but I get it.  He shows up, and as a man in touch with his feminine side, I didn't  think he was all that.  He did have a nice head of that long and snakey Italian hair...the kind where he is constantly touching it...pulling it out of his face and such.  It looks great but damn if it doesn't annoy me when they are constantly primping it out.  Call me jealous if you'd like and no question I have always wanted hair that blows in the wind and looks just like it. 

So we are driving around and he is giving us a decent tour with good info and photo-op shots...but then I made the mistake of making a joke/insulting the Italians a bit.  I see a ratty  Kia or Hyundai on the road and ask to Francesco, 'why would anyone buy a crappy Hyundai here in Italy when you already have your own shitty Fiats?'  He gets defensive and asks me  if I know what they call Fords.  Of course I do.  Found On The Road Dead he says.  I counter with Fucked Over Rejected Dodge and add that Fiats are called Fix It Again Tonys. 

Later in the day, I ask Francesco where he learned his English.  I find it helpful to compliment the local guides on their ability to speak it so well first as I know it is hard to speak multiple languages and have complete respect for those that make the effort to do so.  Second, it pumps them up a bit and maybe we get a little extra on our tour.  Francesco says he learned it in school but has visited the States several times and spent a couple months in NYC last winter. He loved NY and specifically, going to Broadway musicals.   At this point, he is either feeling comfortable with us or is still miffed at my attack on the beloved Fiat, and he starts telling us what he finds wrong with Americans.  I kept a list.

- American refrigerate everything.  Sorry that we invented refrigeration dude.

- He alluded that Americans were stupid citing a girl that he met, and said he wanted to date but never did (you can't fool me with that posing Francesco...your fondness for Broadway musicals is a dead giveaway).  They were talking about how hot it gets in town in the summer and he said it can get to 100 degrees and she said to him "in Celsius".  That is dumb as 100 Celsius is the temperature where water boils, but concluding that Americans are not world wise cause one of us didn't know the intricacies of Celsius seems a bit unfair.  I've lived for years in metric countries and still have a hard time knowing the conversion without looking it up.

- We are also completely ignorant of geography apparently cause one tourist asked if she could see Yugoslavia from there.  Granted, Yugoslavia is on the other side of Italy.  And Yugoslavia hasn't existed as a country for 25 years.  And Americans are notoriously poor in geography, but there are people that don't know stuff everywhere and some don't give a shit about geography anyway.  I held back on this one even though I wanted to challenge him to a geography quiz on the spot.

- He questioned the American affinity for garlic bread volunteering that Italians would never eat it.  I asked if he ever tried it and did he enjoy it if he did and he replied that it was good.  So...not only what is your problem with our fondness of a piece of delectable  golden brown and crunchy garlic bread, but why don't Italians make it if it is good? 

- Finally, we American "categorize" everything and something always has to be "the best".  He cited a tourist who was saying at dinner one night that the gnocchis he was eating were the best he ever had.  The next morning, this same guy said that the sunrise was the best he had ever seen, or something like that.  So what?  It's a figure of speech.  Kind of like saying 'how are you' but not really wanting to know. 

All in all a good day.  The Amalfi area would be worth a return visit, but you want to do it right, which means coming in the summer and being prepared to spend a mint in accommodations and luxuries.  And we were able to get a running gag for the trip.  Whenever I was bored, would do a Francesco accent and start saying things like, 'Americans a-like-a their toilet-a paper soft-a', which provided hours of entertainment.  As we said goodbye to Francesco that day, I told him we had a nice time and that he was THE BEST tour guide we ever had.

We faced a 4+ hour drive to our next destination the next day, but kept our sightseeing options on the way open in the advance plan in hopes of hearing about something to do from our interactions with the locals.  Naples Daniela mentioned a mozzarella factory on the way and when we inquired about it with Francesco, he gave a glowing (for him) review that made it our must-see. 

We found ourselves mid-morning on the grounds of Tenuta Vannulo.

Italy's only organic buffalo mozzarella producer, we were the only visitors there and they were kind enough to give us a tour without reservations.  I learned a ton about the product and will never eat another caprese salad the same way.  First, water buffaloes were brought to Italy from India at least two thousand years ago, but the exact when/how/who did it has been lost to history.  Vannulo uses only water buffalo milk (as opposed to most others producers who combine it with cow's milk).  They produce 400 kgs of the white gold daily and it is sold only locally as it can not be refrigerated.  Theirs is non-pasteurized (which is what makes it organic) and the cows are never milked or handled by humans (apparently, they don't care much for the human touch).  They are milked by specially made (in Sweden) machines.  The buffaloes are micro-chipped and daily, they know to go into the machines and if they have been in too recently, the machine reads it and they are turned away.  Otherwise, they go in and an infrared scanner spots the teats, affixes these milking machines and away they go.  I rarely take videos and have never tried to attach  one to this journal, but hope this works,

If not, here is a picture of the milking machine.

 The cows then go to their pen to eat and even have little massagers, which they seem to enjoy a great deal.

 Any image of a water buffalo in my mind has them wearing a nose ring, and they told us the reason for it is that they put them on the more aggressive ones as they will not fight with one in their nose as they are sensitive and it hurts when they try to butt another animal.

 They have 300 female cows that produce milk from the ages of 3 - 15.  There are 8 very special male cows that help make the babies (we did the math...39.5 girls to each boy). 

There was a history of the farm museum that had neat photos of the old days, the old equipment and this delivery van.

 Once the milk is heated and the curds are separated from the whey, the curds are hand rolled and pulled into the mozzarella all by hand.  The whey is reheated to make ricotta cheese and the word ricotta itself means reheated in Italian.  It was then time for a tasting of mozzarella that was milked just three hours previous.  One of the most amazing eating experiences in my life.

The store that sells the mozzarella is there too and most of it is pre-ordered, but they have some same day sales and we were lucky enough to get a kilo to take away.  We were told...actually we were implored under some Italian rule of etiquette, to not refrigerate it and it'd be good for three days.  It didn't take that long as we greedily enjoyed it on a piece of warm bread the next morning.  I know for my part, I will never be able to eat another piece of mozzarella without comparing it unfavorably to this amazing moment.

The Yogurtaria next door is a café, and we collectively got some ice cream, some pudding to take away, and a buffalo milk cappuccino for yours truly.  At our end of trip retrospective dinner, every single one of us put this tour in our top two things we did.

As a bonus, the farm was 10 minutes drive away from the Greek ruins at Paestum.  I only took pictures here with my Canon camera, whose cord to upload to the computer I can't find at the moment so can't show you, but you can go here to look it up.  Well preserved, some say the best, remains of a Greek city from 600BC and its three temples.  Pretty fantastic for sure.  At one point, Betty and AM are climbing down one of the temples and AM bangs her head.  I wasn't there but they come up and tell me and I laugh.  Betty says it was really loud and that it hurt bad and I replied with a favorite Simpson quote, "I said ha ha".  Another running gag became that whenever we hit a UNESCO site going forward, she would have to crack her skull on it. 

I think that should do it for today...banged this one out watching my beloved Raiders lose, but the Seahawks just took care of business, so will see you next week.

January 7th, 2017

"Flossing is punk rock",  We got back from 2 plus weeks in Italy, which was fantastic as you can imagine and will be sharing some thoughts and photos from it next few posts, but the last couple of days have been listening to a lot of hard core punk rock.  Being with the family and a couple of friends in close proximity for two weeks, people that just don't like their music good and loud and rough, wasn't able to crank the tunes so have been needing to listen to as aggressive a jam as my IPod holds.  My go to space where I can get my fix is in the car to and from dropping off  Betty at  work, and I crank it.  Windows down at full volume.  Loud music coming from cars is a common sound in the States but is virtually non-existent here cause they all drive with their windows up so no body can see who is pulling such shitty road maneuvers and the music Chinese make is universally considered terrible, even to the artists performing it.  I know that doing this is contrary to "polite" Taiwanese ethics, and you won't find a person more sensitive to common courtesy and the breaches of it in urban spaces than I, but damn if listening to X at max decibels with the windows down on a warm day is the peak of civilization. 

Another thing that is a morning ritual on the drive home from dropping Betty off is flossing my teeth.  Probably another personal hygiene habit that most would find disgusting, but there you go.  So I'm sitting at a (long) red light with the Gun Club's Fire Spirit roaring out of the decent speakers in the car, furiously digging between my teeth with the floss, and I look to my right and there are 15 scooters with their riders all looking at me.  Some of them are nodding their heads, not in a 'that is some cool shit' way but in a mocking 'look at the circus freak' style.  I mute the volume and yell at them that 'flossing is punk rock' and pump it back up.  I wonder if any of them understood a word I said.  .

I have a new podcast to recommend.  It is called The History of English podcast and it is blowing my mind.  It traces how English has evolved from pre-history to today and it is filling in a ton of gaps not only as to why the language seems so messed up to even native speakers, but the way that history has shaped its evolution.  Am on episode 20 of 80-something and am trying to schedule time when I can be alone with the next episode.  So well done and if you like history or are interested at all as to the language you speak, please give it a try as I would love to talk about it with someone.

OK...travelogue time.  As a reminder, our trip started in Naples and ended in Palermo with a winding drive through the heel and tow of southern Italy in between.  A couple of notes on the long flight(s) over.  First, on the 11 hour haul from Taipei to Istanbul, behind us on the plane was an old dude that had so much phlegm and he tried in vain to get it out...constantly and loudly the entire way.  His wife/nurse just let him wretch away, completely indifferent to his (and our) suffering.  Fortunately, the plane is also the place where I watch movies these days, which to a movie aficionado is like putting ketchup on a fine piece of steak, but my attention span has been dulled by 51 years of the technological revolution and noise cancelling headphones were a blessing with Hack Man behind us.  Think I watched a couple of things but the only flick I wrote down watching this leg was the new Ghostbusters.  The kids liked it (but hadn't seen the originals), and I found the ladies in it to be funny and talented, but sat there wondering why they need to remake this stuff.  The plot was somewhat different, but not appreciably so, the CGI is better and it was women instead of men doing the 'busting', but c'mon writers and producers, make a fucking effort at some originality. 

Before I dig in, have to mention that this year, the family was joined by our biennial travel partners. They were with us in Italy 4 years ago and Central Europe 2 years back and include an old friend from Seattle and her 16 year old daughter (who we have known since day 1).  I have learned that I need to keep names out of this space as it is easily googled and they have not signed a waiver, so will use AM for the mom and Chiquita for the girl.

The Imbros arrived at our accommodation at noon and since our travel partners weren't getting in till midnight, we planned to visit the cities archaeological museum that afternoon to shed some jet lag.  I had read that this museum was one of the world's finest of its kind  as it housed the best of the finds from Pompeii and would make the visit to that site more colorful.  At some of the stops we make, we like to hire a guide to walk us around the town.  I am not afraid of maps and love me a DK Eyewitness guide book, but guides can add so much flavor and insight at some stops that they are almost essential at this point.  I wasn't gonna do one for Naples as the books indicated there wasn't much 'there' there, but figured we'd be out of it mentally with the brutal time change and hired one for us the next day.  In talking to her (let's call her Daniela), I asked how we should best kill out time that first  afternoon and she offered to walk us through the archaeological museum this first afternoon and suggested we meet for some pizza before going in.  I liked where her head was at immediately. 

We meet at the appointed time (and Daniela arrived 20 minutes late in true Neapolitan style) and we walked to one of her favorite pizza joints.  A delightfully homey place and an old aunt of hers was there with some of her cronies and they were the cutest bunch of old bats you'll ever see.  We are peckish and order some pizza.  Am sure I don't have to tell you, but Naples is the birthplace of pizza.  Restaurants around the world will seek to gain accreditation from the AVPN-Associazione Verace Pizza Neapolitan.  This certifies that their businesses' pizza is made in the authentic tradition of Naples.  Here is the dirty secret of the AVPN and Neapolitan style pizza...it is total shit.  Have always felt that way about this kind of pizza but thought that being at the epicenter of it, that things would be different.  Nope...the same greasy, undercooked, not enough sauce/cheese/topping slop that you can get anywhere else in the world.  The crust is somewhat finished, but from that point inwards, the bread is a mushy mess, like its been sitting in a puddle of unclean water before they serve it.  Maybe you like it and apparently a lot of people do (or say they do), but it is complete garbage in this food critics opinion.

We head to the museum and it is fine.  Probably would have liked it more if we weren't in a haze, but it had a lot of nice statues and mosaics.  It gets boring looking at that stuff after a short while and I like the history of it more, but the highlight of this museum was the Secret Cabinet.  This is a room that has been off limits to the public for most of its history (you had to have special permission from the church to go in for a hundred years) and unaccompanied minors under 14 are not allowed in.  This part of the museum houses the erotic art they found in Pompeii.  They surmise that most of it came from the red light districts in the town and it is clear that the Romans of AD79 liked their penises (and goats) a great deal

 The city has really embraced the phallus and we saw images of it everywhere around town the next few days. 

 Limoncello bottles

 Statues

 Graffiti

 And they have even desecrated their delicious bread.  Big sellers apparently and there were only two left.

A walking tour of Naples was on tap for the next day, but the weather forecast was for brilliantly sunny skies so we work with Daniela and decide to strike out for the ruins of Pompeii to take advantage.  You know that Pompeii and the environs around Naples were wiped out by the eruption of Mt. Vesuvius in AD79 right?  Ones first impression of the volcano itself, especially from the perspective of one who has lived in the shadow of Mt Ranier for decades, is that it is pretty wimpy looking.  Very pretty and deceptively ominous, but I scoffed.

 We trained it to the sites (about a fun 30 minute ride) and they are vast.  Seeing a city of 100,000 that was wiped out instantly but preserved immaculately is impressive and to be honest (and in my opinion only), was kinda boring.  I half expected to see mummified bodies strewn everywhere, but only saw a couple in a glass case.  The idea of it was exciting, but after a few minutes, m'eh...  I hate to say it, and am sure that the jet lag played a part, but there you go.  I only took a couple of photos and could not tell you what they were from.  

We got back to town and strolled along the promenade of the bay for a while before dinner, and that was pretty.  The lights and street markets...good stuff. 

After a less than impressive dinner, as we're walking around looking at the holiday shoppers and locals on the street, I turn to the Boy and ask, 'have you seen any cute girls?'  He shrugs...for the rest of the night and all during our walking tour of Naples the next day, I became a bit obsessed with looking at the local people.  I know that beauty is in the eye of the beholder, but as one fortunate enough to have lived a bunch of places and to have visited many more, I have never seen an uglier conglomeration of humanity in my life.  There is not even a close second.  The dudes were frumpy and unkempt and didn't have that traditional cool Italian hair, and the women were...I don't want to sound all Trumpy at this point, but I did not see a single one where I went 'hmmm, there's a pussy I'd like to grab'.  And the ones that were trying to look good had this heavy orange make-up all over their face that was almost clown like in its application. 

Our walking tour of Naples the next day was fine, but as feared from my research, Naples just isn't a town that has a "wow" factor to it.  There are some interesting churches, but little that made them stand out from the others that we have seen.  The history and story of San Gennaro (or Januarius) is fascinating.   We saw the church that holds the ampule of his blood where three times a year it is said to liquefy, proving some miracle..  If it doesn't liquefy on the day it is supposed to, then disaster of some kind is imminent.  We learned that the priests took it out a few days before (December 16th) and it did not do so and there was some concern amongst the highly superstitious residents.  Go read about the history of Janaurius cause it is kinda interesting, but my thought in the moment was...Religion?  Really?

Here is another thing (other than the affinity for all things penis and the ugly ass population) about Naples that was hard to ignore...vomit.  There was puke on the streets everywhere and we saw it constantly the entire time.  One of the affects of having bad knees is a constant fear of stepping in a crack and falling down.  With my moms recent spill and subsequent brain draining fresh in my mind, am constantly scanning the ground like it was a minefield.  Sucks cause I know I am missing the world around me, especially on vacation, but if there is money in the street, I'm gonna see it.  Another thing I see a lot of everywhere is dog shit.  On our trip with AM and Chiquita to Austria two years ago, the popular local soft drink at the time was a citrus thing called Almdudler.  One day while tooling around town, Chiquita stepped in a fresh pile of dog poo...the kind where you never really ever get it off and think she even tossed that pair of shoes.  I can't remember the evolution exactly, but during that trip, whenever we were walking around and saw some poop on the street, the person that spotted it would call out "Almdudler" and it has become our word for dog doo whenever we see it since.  After seeing the vomit on the streets so frequently, it was natural that we had to have a term for it to warn the others, so it quickly became a Neapolitan frittata.

We saw a cave where they transported the bones of the Christians killed in Roman times that was sorta cool.

Every culture has their own traditions for celebrating Christmas.  Christmas markets in Germany, plastic trees in Taiwan, 6 months of advertising in the States and the worst of all, boiled fig cake in England.  The biggest local tradition for Christmas in Naples town  are nativity scenes.  These things are not only everywhere, they are massive.  Am talking room sized in some cases and cannot stress enough how ubiquitous they were..  There are whole markets and shops devoted to selling of all things you can put into a nativity scene.  Wise men, mangers...but they take it to a level that you cannot imagine.  The entire town of Bethlehem is depicted.  And not just Bethlehem in 1BC.  They have items for the nativity scene with current professions.  My favorite was the animatronic pizza maker.  As the Italians would say (in broken English)....Ah-Jesus-a likes hizzah pizza pie.

In my (and the kids) opinion, the best thing we saw/did there was take the subterranean tour in the evening of our last night in town.  Originally, these were aqueducts carved out of the ground in Roman times (how they did this without electricity and power tools astounds) and were used as such until the 18th century (when cholera killed a decent percentage of the town).  During WWII, they became the shelter for the locals during allied bombing in 1943.  Not a huge fan of claustrophobic spaces, but hit the history and sensory parts of the body just right.

I just crumbed on the city of Naples. I feel bad cause I did like it, Pompeii and Vesuvius are fascinating and I groove on a real city and its grittiness.  Plus,  the penis thing was hilarious.  But Naples is a shit hole, which is surprising cause everything I had seen of Italy before, and my romanticized version of it from before that, was instantly changed.  Not in a terrible way, but more realistic.  So to you Naples...

 

but in a loving way.

Will try to write up more tomorrow, but the Hawks playoff game against Detroit is on (after my beloved Raiders at Houston...such a shame about the Carr injury, but am so happy to have my team back in the playoffs in a quincinera), so if it's a blowout, will write.  If not, will talk soon.

December 10th, 2016

Hey there,

We are heading out of town for Winter break next Thursday and this will be the last post of the year.  We're meeting up with friends in Italy and start in Naples and the Amalfi coast.  We then drive to the heel (I say more Achilles tendon) and visit Alberodello and Matera, before heading down to the toe to spend a few days in Sicily.  Should be a good time obviously and can't believe the powers that be signed off on me driving for a good portion of the trip. 

Was finalizing details this week and booked a walking tour in Naples.  We get in a 1/2 day before our friends arrive so arranged with the tour lady for her to show us the famous Archaeological Museum in Naples that houses many of the artifacts from Pompeii for a couple hours the afternoon we get in.  She suggested we meet up before the museum for some pizza.  I love the way Italians think.

In preparation for the trip, went for a pedicure today.  Pedicures are the best and have never met another fella that is even remotely as fond of them as I.  Can't ever recall ever knowing another guy that goes for them with any gusto and can't understand why.  Not a fan of massages of any kind.  Some guys in this town say they go to the barber for shaves, which has to be a total ruse for them to get the old tug and pull cause why would this town need a place that specializes in facial shaving?  Chinese people grow facial hair with the same ease that Mark Watney grew potatoes on Mars. I don't get a pedi for my toes to look good (although they do), but for them to get up close and dig into the cuticles and mine out all the shit that collects in between the nails and skin.  Another favorite aspect is when they take the cheese grater and exfoliate the soles of the feet.  And then you get the 30 second ankle and calf massage at the end, which I don't mind, but is does get uncomfortable for both of us when they work over my left ankle.  Me cause rubbing the metal bolts they installed to repair it kinda hurts, and them when they feel it and are confused as it doesn't feel right.  I watch as they are doing it and when they hit that spot and they always look up with a 'what the fuck is that' expression.  So that is your tip on what to get the guy that has everything for Christmas...pedicure gift certificates.

If I were to name a band or sports team, my current preference would be for them to be called the Corsairs.  Originally the name of Ottoman pirates in the Mediterranean, and not only the name of  the coolest fighter plane ever, but a very underrated  60's doo-wop group.  Just think it is cool sounding while also employing some bad ass imagery.

A new show that I've been watching that I hate-like is 'The Great Indoors'.  Tuned in as it was created by a guy I listen to via podcast for a while and stars ex-Almost Live Joel McHale.  Not gonna go too deep as it isn't great, but basically it is an older dude (my generation) dealing with millennials in office type situations.  A bit cliché and the jokes hit and miss, but enjoyed an episode the other day where the older guy was called into HR to be taught how to deal with the younger 'everyone gets a trophy' generation. In the epilogue, the millennials are brought into HR to learn how to deal with the older types and are shown a video about how to teach them about computers.  The video was titled D.R.O.P. which stands for Don't Rush Old People.  Funny cause it's true.  The kids are always scoffing at my lack of knowledge about the alt keys, and I have constant exasperation with my 90 year old mom's lack of any computer related information retention. 

Speaking of which, she went home today.  We're all happy for her.  Deciding whether to do the risky surgery, the underlying reason she went for it was that the dementia caused by the pressure on the brain was going to cause her to have to move into Assisted Living, which was a death sentence for her.  The surgery was the best  hope that she would get back home/to Independent Living. 

I'll tell you, the first few days after her surgery, when she was in complete gibberish mode, I didn't have much hope and was all ready to scoff at the Stanford reputation.  Going into the deal, my rationalization that it was a good idea was that she was going to get the best treatment imagineable as what place on the planet attracts the best talent in the world?  Hard to argue that Stanford would be in that discussion.  Certainly in the States, it has risen to the level of the more traditional Ivy League/Johns Hopkins institutions and from the way the Asians talk around here, has  surpassed them..  And the dude performing the surgery was the head of their neuroscience department with a distinguished career as a surgeon.  But those initial days of nuttiness, combined with the fact that Stanford hospital felt outdated and that the surgeon took off for vacation two days after the procedure for a week had me thinking that their reputation was seriously overblown. 

To be fair, it was T-giving break and doctors are entitled to their personal space.  And they are building a state of the art hospital across the street, which in typical Californian fashion has been wracked with environmental and administrative delays and is several years behind schedule.  But as the situation evolved, the hospital staff all proved to be excellent and her condition has improved to the point that she seems almost as good as before the fall and must give credit to the institution.

Stanford does have it all.  The setting couldn't be anymore idyllic and they are on a plot of land that is massive and in one of in the highest valued property areas in the world.  Their endowment is ridiculous (if you haven't listened to the Malcolm Gladwell podcast titled My Little Hundred Million, do it now).  When I go walking while visiting there, I typically head to their track, which is located in the middle of all their other sports facilities.  You have never seen more complete, well manicured and simply perfect facilities for literally every sport.  Dedicated and gorgeous venues for things like discus, archery and equestrian. 

But Stanford and Palo Alto always frustrate me too.  To go from my mom to sisters house, one must traverse the campus/downtown areas...maybe a mile or two...and the traffic lights are all calibrated so you stop at every single one.  And while the people are probably better than me, the righteousness of them is always stunning.  I had several examples this trip, but the one that bugged me the most, and that you will likely find petty, happened in the mall parking lot.  Was driving my moms ride, which is a low profile Nissan 300ZX.  A sweet car, low miles and would be worth about 10k if she sold it, but the thing has the worst visibility of any car I've ever had the opportunity to drive.  We all shudder to think that she was driving it past her 90th b-day.  Anyhoo, am in the parking lot and am between two decent sized SUV's and there is no way to see what is behind me.  Before I get into the car, I scanned the area to see what was around cause I know it's gonna be a bit hard pulling out, and there are people about but no one coming in my lane either on foot or wheels.  Start pulling out...slowly...and make the arc to move along, and a mom and her kid are now walking in the lane behind me.  Again, I don't see them immediately cause of the bad visibility, but finally do and they are right behind me.  I stop of course, but instead of this lady holding back and teaching her kid that cars are big and weigh a lot, and that you should probably give them some space from time to time, I get the indignant "watch where you're going".  I coulda sworn that this was the same woman we saw in the Nordstrom shoe section the day before, whose 6 year old brat was rolling all over the floor making a racket,  and she was making a half hearted effort to control him.  She tells him that he won't be able to go to his friends house later if he doesn't behave, which he doesn't, and calls him by his name...Edison.  What a perfectly pompous Palo Alto child's name.  I would swear that the name of the kid's friend she mentioned was Nietzche.  See, I told you it was petty, but multiply this by every person in town and it gets old fast. 

Not everything is all pedestrian friendly renaissance named bliss.  A commuter train runs through town and there are a handful of crossings, and there has been a suicide cluster amongst the high school students throwing themselves in front of the trains in the recent past.  Here is an article about it and if you google Palo Alto suicides, you can find a bunch of them.  Seems they blame it on academic pressure and then the natural contagion effect.  Am sure they are doing a lot to talk to the kids about it, but one of their solutions was to place guards at all of the railroad crossings.  The guards are stationed there 24  mind numbing  hours a day.  Absolutely ridiculous cause one could easily hurl themselves in front of the train even with these guys there.  Liberal ass covering at its best.

All right...those last few paragraphs were a bit dark, so let me leave you with something a little more light hearted.  Before mom's surgery, we packed a bag for the hospital.  Things like some underwear, her glasses, etc.  Figured that we'd be sitting there for hours at a time and that the hospital food might not always satisfy, so we brought some along snacks from her apartment.  One of the things we grabbed was a box of Parmesan cheese crackers...fancy ones.  I'm sitting there one night at around 1am and am getting a bit peckish, so bust out the crackers and they are the worst things I've ever tasted.  Can't remember ever eating  insulation, but that is exactly what they tasted like.  I must be missing something so eat a few more and they just aren't growing on me and could not understand what she found appealing about them.   Finally, I take a look at the box and the expiration date was October 19th...2012.  I have never passed insulation through my bowels either, but what happened the next day is exactly what that must feel like. 

Happy B-day Jesus.

December 5th, 2016

Since I've been away for a while and have leaned towards the more personal of topics of late, thought I'd through out a quick all Taiwan edition. 

Have often complained that the Yum Corporation does not see the Taiwanese market fit for Taco Bell. KFC and Pizza Huts galore, but not a single queserito or Dorito taco to be found.  I saw an article this week  about the Philippines Taco Bells offering gawdamn Cheetos quesadilla.  How come the Philippines gets Taco Bells?  Was out with friends the other night, and they had some of their friends along too, and we started talking about food.  The question I ask all other expats is 'what food will you miss when you leave?"  The two most frequent answers are Din Tai Fung and a blank expression.  This gal the other night thought hard and said the guy that serves up Roman style food.  "La Lupa?" I said.  Indeed it was and that is our family's favorite spot too.  Small world and even a smaller culinary community in this town

In equally tragic/hopeful news, the inventor of General Tso's chicken died this week.  I did not know that it was created here in Taiwan, albeit by a Chinese chef that fled the mainland in 1949, but have never seen it served around town.  The description in the article about him says that "he decided to chop some chicken into big chunks, fry it to a golden hue and then added a different combination of sauce and seasoning to create a new dish."  I can't think of a single thing that has a golden hue that isn't awesome...chicken, sunsets, the baby Jesus.  The world morns the loss of a genius but from tragedy comes hope as there are restaurants serving his creations still around town.  Am gonna have to have someone translate this page and go soon. 

The biggest  news story about town, which also appears to be big in the geopolitical community as well, is Trump's call to Taiwan's delightful President Tsai this week.  As with most things Trump, who initiated what, when and why is unclear,  His motivation is cloudy and think we're all in agreement that he either doesn't know the nuances of the unique relationship between the US/China/Taiwan, or doesn't give a shit.  In the line to defend him, I am pretty far back, but cannot fault his rationale that as we sell them billions of dollars in weaponry, why wouldn't we talk to them?  And if you've read this space with any regularity, fuck China is a recurrent theme.  Their historical assumption that the island is part of China is tenuous at best and their circumspect passive-aggressive big brother stance towards Taiwan that can be seen in their blocking them access to things like the international aviation safety conferences is both dangerous and childish.  They get credited with a wise foreign policy due to their taking and acting with the long view, but think they are just big bullies that are real pussies.  I haven't been with any of my local anti-Trump acquaintances, which is all of them,  since this came out to see what the consensus here is.  The View from Taiwan blogger guy has a decent take.  My gut reaction when I heard it, and ever since, was good job Donald.  I'm not one of the jump off a bridge type liberals and have a wary but open mind to see what he does.  Not terribly hopeful or enthusiastic with his inner circle picks, but he is in a unique position to stir up some outmoded status quos, much like  Obama's opening a dialogue with Cuba.  I have little hope that he's gonna do the right thing, or even if he knows what the thing is, but maybe?

Finally, my favorite band, the beloved Yo La Tengo, were in Taipei this week.  Am not going to go in depth on the show here as I have been meaning to write a long love letter to them and will do so soon, but must comment on the crowd here.   I also went to Seoul to see them a couple of days previously and it was a great show (natch) and the fans were good, but the Taiwanese were awesome.  Yo La Tengo's current tour has them typically playing two sets: one acoustic and one electric.  The Taipei crowd was virtually silent in the exceptionally quiet first set.  I had some gas that I wanted to pass at one point but held it back in fear that the whole place would have heard it.  OK, I didn't hold it back as an expert in flatulence like myself can let them go silently much like the Red October, but you get the point.  During the loud set, they roared at all the right spots and even sang the back up 'bop bop bops" in just the right spot during the encore.  As rabid, polite and knowledgeable crowd of any band I've ever had the pleasure to commune with.  Good on YOU Taiwan.

December 3rd, 2016

Hey there.  Thanks for reaching out to ask about my mom.   I just got back to town from an extended trip to see her so let me take a few minutes to update you.  Before I get started, I should tell you that her name is Mary Lou, but many years ago, a friend of mine started calling her ML and we have all been calling her that since and will refer to her with that moniker in the passage that follows.

Was planning for a 5 day trip to say 'hey' and give moral support, but she was in a bit worse shape than  expected.  Physically, she was as strong as a 90 year old ox, but her mind was wandering and was not retaining information.  She could easily recall everything that had ever happened in her life with the exception of stuff that happened since her fall.  To remind you of the situation, she was on an outing in August with her place and as she was walking down a set of stairs, put her cane on a metal drain grate on the final step, it slipped and she fell and banged her head on the stair railing.  A CT scan at the time showed no serious damage, they sewed her up and sent her home. Several weeks later, she was complaining of headaches and her doctor said to take Tylenol.  The bottle showed she could take them six a day, which she started doing.  This doctor knew of her spill and this diagnosis was negligent at best...more on her another day as I need to remain silent due to possible legal action..  ML then started to become disoriented, waking up in the middle of the night not knowing whee she was and such...I got a Skype call at 4:30am her time in one of these states and it was scary as hell.  Mentioned last time that my sister took her to a specialist on election day and they discovered a large blood clot on her brain, which is where I left off last time.

Her follow up appointment with the specialist was on Tuesday after arrival, so we had a couple of days to do things together...like go to buy shoes at Nordstrom and have a throw down at her guiltiest food pleasure...Taco Bell.

I indulged so much that I clogged her toilet the next day.  More on that family trait later.

We go to the neurosurgeon on Tuesday and I get to see the CT scans.  The one from right after her accident, which showed little damage,  and the one they took a week previous, where  you can see this massive white blob on the side of her head opposite of the one she hit.  That was a surprise but learned that it is common as your brain sloshes around up there.  The doctor said we could leave it be and hope it would dissipate, or open her up and try to drain it.  I know she was scarred at the prospect of surgery.  Anytime you cut someone open is a risk and that danger increases exponentially with someone that is 90 years old.  The stats we were shown was that it was successful over 95% of the time for younger folks, but dropped to 76% in the elderly.  The doctor made it sound like it was a routine thing and my feeling about her going through with it at the appointment was a coin flip.   ML, who from my earliest memories has pleaded to not be kept on any life support and willingly signed every DNR (do not resuscitate) declaration, was adamant that she just wanted to let it run its course and did not want to be lying there as an invalid.  For some family perspective, my grandmother, her mother-in-law, went in for surgery when I was in my 20's and she never went home again, so that is in the back of all our minds.  We all sat around and discussed options and to be honest, felt that we put pressure on her to say yes, which she ultimately did.  I don't feel good about my part in that and constantly fought the urge to subsequently say that she should not go through with it.  They didn't waste any time and scheduled for Thursday... two days later.

Game time came on Thursday morning and she was a cool customer, especially as she'd never been on the receiving end of a surgery in her life. I hoped that relating the experiences of my six knee/ankle visits to the ER helped demystify the upcoming proceedings.  It didn't take long and we were able to see her a couple of hours later.  Other than the two 2" scars on the side of her head, she looked normal, but she was definitely not all there.

In some ways, she was exactly like before  cause one of the first things she wanted when they let her elevate her head 35 degrees at 9pm that night was a broom to clean up the room.  Maybe it is nurture or that we are both Virgos, but I remember coming home from ACL surgery, still cloudy from the anesthesia and before the pain meds wore off,, and the first thing I did was grab a broom to sweep up the kitchen.  When the time came that she was able to get up and go to the bathroom, I'm sitting there as she is shuffling back to bed and there is a trash can in the room that was slightly askew and even in her delirious state, I watched as she instinctively paused and aligned it straight.

She spent three nights in the hospital.  It was supposed to be two, but the way the medicare works, she had to stay three nights in order to get her after care paid for.  I was fortunate to not be dealing with the administrative side of this process so can't tell you why, but you instantly realize why medical costs in the States are out of control.  Those three  nights were brutal.  Hour upon hour of listening to her ask the same questions over and over just not able to comprehend what was going on.  One of her first questions was "why are we here and where are we going?"  Pretty deep for a stoned college dorm but disturbing as hell looking at your mom with two new holes in her head.  We've all heard about people dealing with relatives that have dementia or Alzheimer's, but seeing someone you love not having a clue about where they are, or who you are, is absolutely soul crushing.

OK...take a moment and remember these five words...Face, Velvet, Church, Daisy, Red.

That first night was in a room with two other post-op patients, and all the moans of pain and nurse activity was surreal.  One of the saving graces of my moms post-op condition ws that she felt absolutely no physical pain, but her mind wouldn't turn off and she would not go to sleep.  Her ramblings must have provided some entertainment to the other inmates.  At one point she finally nods off for an hour and am sitting there in the dark and merciful silence when the guy behind the curtain  in the bed next to her starts talking to the nurse.  She asks him about his surgery, which had something to do with his back cause he is not allowed to move at all, and then he goes into a 15 minute version of  his life story...his coming to God moment that his life is all about getting back to his two teen age kids.  He had three kids but one died young.  He explained that unbeknownst to him, while he was at work, his pregnant wife was smoking crack and the baby came out all messed up and died young.  Then his work as in construction dried up due to the 2008 market crash and he had to take jobs at the Home Depot, where he fell off a ladder and broke his back.  Bad surgeries got him on his feet but not enough to do construction, so he has been driving a forklift to make ends meet.  His spine deteriorated to the point he ended up back for this surgery and that he prayed he could be normal enough after to take care of his kids.  Will never ever forget that moment.

Night two still found mom being disoriented.  There is a thing called Sundowners Syndrome where people with dementia get worse in the evening, and she exhibited this in textbook fashion.  At one point in the middle of the night (even heavy sedatives wouldn't knock her out), we're talking and am not sure who she thought I was, but it's clear she doesn't think I'm her son.   She wants out of wherever she thinks she is and reaches out and grabs my knee and says, "Look, we've been friends a long time.  You've gotta get me out of here." Disconcerting but funny. 

 I think the worst of her ramblings was about my sister.  A traditional running trope in our family is that, as the baby in the family, I have always been the favorite.  Never mind that my sister is a Princeton/Stanford grad and wildly successful in her field while I am an unemployed burnout, I've always gotten off easy and can do no wrong.  My sister is the one that organized for her to sell her house after my dad died and moved her to a swanky retirement community near her place so she could keep watch on her, and I get to swoop in a couple times a year and be the fun kid that takes her to Vegas and Taco Bell.  At one point during a particularly fucked up rant, she says to me that my sister has always wanted her jewelry and now she can get it since she is locked up in the hospital and that she is now expecting to be sued by her.  Very hurtful stuff that was easily overheard by my sister who was standing in the hallway.  I wish I knew why, and they don't out an out yell at each other, but it was not cool that they kept butting heads about issues where they both were in agreement.  They called me a couple times to resolve disputes about points that were not debatable...like that she cannot leave the hospital and taking certain meds.  During her more whacked out moments, we had to speak to her like she was a 5 year old...things like eating your vegetables before dessert... and I know that in that situation, I got to be the good/lenient parent. 

Sedated, and obviously a fall risk, someone needs to take her to the bathroom.  Additionally,  hospital gowns leave little in the form of privacy.  The nurses did the dirty work in the bathroom, but I saw things that I can never un-see.  I was relating the stories of Grandma to the kids and when I started sharing this part of the experience, the Boy said stop and when I tried to push through, cause I had to get it out of my mind, he almost yelled at me to 'please stop'. I informed botht he kids that they had better get used to the idea of changing my poopy diapers someday or at least work hard to make enough money to hire someone to do it for them.   Speaking of nurses, they are either the most incredible people or are the biggest sadists.  Probably a little of both.  I posited this thought to someone along the way and asked if there was another profession that was similar.  They said elementary school teacher.  Hmmmm...really?

After the hospital, she was in no shape to go home, so she ended up in a Skilled Nursing place.  Her retirement community has three sections.  Independent living, where her apartment is, is a deluxe apartment complex with all the amenities but no live in care givers allowed as you have to be able to live on your own.  Then there is the Assisted Living section where you transfer to when you need care givers and there are 24 hour nurses on call.  This is where she was going to have to go if her dementia didn't get better and she knew that once you go there, you never get out and that thought above all others is what made her give the surgery a go.  The third section is Skilled Nursing where the inmates/residents can stay when recovering from surgeries like she had.  I saw a ton of broken hip patients.  It was comforting that it was still in the same complex, but she didn't like it one bit.  The ramblings had lessened but still would come around at night.  Things like "lock the door" even though there are no locks on hospital doors or  "let me get my stuff from upstairs" when there is only one floor of the facility repeated on an endless loop.  There was a near constant flow of people in the room...to take blood pressure, deliver her meals and give therapy. so was hard to just relax.  One of my best traits (I think) is that I can change any  subject, which was invaluable in this case as she was obsessing about her situation.  She was a Fox News devotee and we agreed to not have that fight, so to distract her, looked for shows we could both agree upon so we could lose our thoughts into something else.  She loves the show Blue Bloods, which apparently runs 24 hours a day on some channel.  I had never seen it but has been on for at least 6 years and was game as I am a Magnum P.I. era Tom Selleck fan, but found Blue Bloods to be awful.  Donnie Whalberg proves that talent doesn't get distributed evenly in a family and the whole thing felt preachy.  My mom even complained that Tom Selleck drinks too much (Scotch with a back splash).  I didn't care too much cause it was all about putting her at ease,  but then we stumbled on a channel way down on the dial called Buzzer that played old game shows all day and night.  Was a perfect choice as it didn't matter that we'd get interrupted by the nurses, plus those shows were so great.  Old Match Games and Family Feuds were my favorite.  Next to each of the Match Game celebs they all had ashtrays, and you realize how far we have come in access to dentistry cause yellow snaggleteeth were the norm..  Charles Nelson Reilly and Brett Sommers were fucking riots.   And I was envious of Richard Dawson cause he obviously had the cushiest life...always with a perfectly glowing tan and totally buzzed.  Life must have been good.  Let's Make a Deal was another winner, but the biggest find was one I had totally forgotten.  Cardsharks.  I wish you had seen it with me...there was a black guy that won four days in a row and he was dressed in immaculate late 70's disco attire with the big lapels on a shirt unbuttoned to the waist with gold chains gleaming and an absolutely perfectly manicured  huge Afro.  The show centered around picking cards that were either higher or lower than the one before and he would explain the  rationale for his choices with aplomb before each card was drawn.  He finally got taken down by this adorable Hawaiian woman with ultra tight t-shirt and the tightest high waisted bell bottoms that had to be a foot wide and covered her shoes. After each correct card, she'd clap twice and do a little jump.  We laughed and commented on these shared cultural relics and it made us both relax for a spell.

The nurses at this place, mostly CNA's (which stands for Certified Nursing Assistant) and later the ladies my sister hired to be her baby sitters, were all Filipinas.  I know I've touted how much respect I have for these people, but have to reiterate just how amazing they are.  Nothing fazes them and they are always happy.  And they aren't dummies either...was chatting with one at length one afternoon and asked what she thought of their new President Duterte.  She replied with 'what do you think about Trump'.  N'uff said.  The lady that cleans our apartment once a week is a Filipina lady and there is something about their inherent good naturedness and giving spirit that makes me want to be a better person.  The lady that comes to our place in Taiwan to clean left her home when her daughter was 4 years old so she could make money to send home so her kids could go to school.  The daughter is 22 years old now, just graduated from medical school in respiratory something or other and they have not seen each other in 18 years.  She doesn't say it with sadness but is proud of her daughter.  They talk every day on the phone and yesterday, she showed me some pictures of her.  Smoking hot.  Equal parts heart wrenching and inspiring.  Before my mom could take a shower, they would come to give her sponge baths and I'll be honest here,  I really wanted one too.

One of the bigger topics during her recovery was bowel movements.   Anesthesia will shut down your bowels, as I can attest to first hand.  After my ankle reconstruction, which was a 3 or 4 hour under anesthesia  affair, I hadn't urinated for an extended period of time,  so the saint/sadist nurse jammed a tube up my penis to get the show started. No small talk or foreplay.  Mom  wasn't getting enough fiber and shit, she's 90 years old so if she wants to eat chocolate all day, the good (lenient)parent in me said ' go for it'.  But that stuff will not help getting regular.  Twice daily doses of stool softeners weren't doing the trick and a couple of glasses of something called miralax didn't get the plumbing right either, so one of her team of brilliant Filipinas brought prune juice one morning.  Within hours, she had a toilet clogger of her own.  Literally...we had to call for the plunger to get it down.   We all high fived.  I even took a photo of it but will not share it with you cause this site isn't ratemypoo.com, however I will send to you if you send me a private message. 

As her night time disorientation was a concern and she was an obvious fall risk,  someone needed to stay with her all night and as I had nothing better to do, took the duty the first couple of nights.  My sister had access to a fancy full size air mattress that was too big and loud to work in the room so ended up making a little spot on the floor.  After a couple nights of chair sleeping in the hospital, this was a step up.  The problem was that since I was asleep too, we had to hook her up to a personal alarm system that would ring if she tried to get out of bed.  Never seen one of these before, but they have these devices that strap onto the bed railing and then a string running from it is clipped to the patient so if they get up, the magnet attaching the string detaches and a loud siren will start blaring.  The problem in this case was that the stupid cord wasn't as long as the bed was wide and mom is a roller and pulled the rip cord once an hour.  That was not a pleasant night.   She tells the world the next day that I was yelling at her but in my recollection, was calling into question the relationship that the designer of the 'bed alarm' had with his mother.  We hired a nighttime sitter to come from 11p-7a after that cause I was not only losing my mind, but my personal hygiene was starting to suffer.

What was supposed to be a 4 day trip turned into a 2+ week one and have to give credit to Eva Airlines.  I changed my flight date 3 or 4 times and they did so nicely and with no added fees.  What did suck was that we had a long weekend trip to Malaysia paid for that I had to miss.  Am glad Betty and the kids went and by her account, the place was fantastic although she groused about the kids being lumps.  It seems that the combination of being a teenager that has to be unimpressed by anything a parent offers, and that they have seen so much stuff in the last 4 years that their motivation to get the most out of a vacation has flat lined.  Haven't talked to them much about their trip but did hear about the hot Europeans in the hut next door.

 The Boy didn't think our comments about them were funny.

 It has been a while, years probably, since Betty has spent extended quality alone time with the kids without me around, so view this aspect of the situation as a positive.

I spent at least 16 hours a day with her during this whole thing and was witness to her daily improvement. Early on, I was thinking we made a terrible choice in convincing her to do it.  In the dark recesses of my mind, and just for a fleeting moment,  thought that snuffing her out with a pillow would be the most humane thing to do.  I thought about my own mortality and if I am ever in a spot that seemed terminal...where the rest of my life would be painful for not only me, but all of those around me, that I hope someone would casually leave a gun (or preferably a bottle of sleeping pills) and I will take care of my own business.  But every day, she was retaining more and more.  She had therapy, both physical and occupational, twice a day.  As mentioned earlier, she was a clean liver all her life and while she always detested exercise, a constant regimen of cleaning for 90 years made her physically fit.  She did better each day with the physical stuff and was making great strides with the cognitive and occupational stuff as well.   24 hours after surgery, they gave her a test to see how the brain was functioning.  In that test, they showed her a cube and told her to draw it.  She couldn't.  Another question was, 'if it is 10 minutes past 11, what time is it" and then to draw a clock with the numbers and represent the time on her drawing.  Couldn't do that either.  They gave a couple of words and asked what relates them...apples and bananas, train and bicycle, a ruler and a clock.  She got those right but I gave different answers than she did.  Hers were right apparently...for instance, she said apples and bananas were both fruit while in my mind I thought that they could both be peeled.  I later asked the therapist if there was a right answer and he said it was the fruit one.   And at the end, they asked her to recount the 5 words they gave her to remember at the beginning of the test that I listed earlier in this post.  Can you remember them without looking?  She got 3 or 4 and I did the same, but that is not an easy thing to do.  They gave her this same test a few days later and she did much better and was lucid enough to realize that she had to pass this test to get back to her apartment and asked me to help her study.  I would guess they give a version of this test to football players they suspect have a concussion. 

Betty had a trip coming up and was worried about leaving her, but the improvement in her health daily was such that I felt it OK to come home.  I honestly thought that she could go home then if it weren't for the night time bouts of nutty talk.   They moved her computer over to the place and we have skyped each day and she seems even better still.  They are going to not have a night time babysitter for the first time tonight and she just got word from the team that is monitoring her that they feel she can go home next Wednesday (which means that health insurance stops paying for this nursing thing).  Her retirement complex has to sign off on her first and that includes a walk through of her place to make it safer (no loose carpets, a chair in the shower, etc), but all in all, it looks positive.  Glad I didn't use that pillow.

When I got home I said these words that I never ever thought I would utter...'it's good to be back in Taiwan'

Her is a photo of one rack of staples in her head...there is another set towards the back. 



When she was lying in the hospital bed and I showed them to her and asked if she was getting AM and FM.  I thought it was funny but the young nurse that was there with us at the time did not seem amused.  I said to the nurse, if instead of AM/FM, if I asked if she was Bluetooth enabled,  would that be funnier?  She said 'not much'.

Talk soon.